


Give Me Your Tomorrow

by Elfbert



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2012-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-31 08:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfbert/pseuds/Elfbert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tie-in fic to the Nanny John Blogs.</p><p>The weekend before Valentine's Day - Lestrade's just finished a police conference in Manchester, and has no idea what John's got planned...</p><p>Ties in with these blog entries:</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="http://interestingmurders.blogspot.com/2012/02/because-i-love-you-too-much-baby.html">Because I love you too much baby</a><br/><a href="http://boringlifeofjohnwatson.blogspot.com/2012/02/hollandaise.html">Hollandaise</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me Your Tomorrow

Lestrade waved his left hand expansively above his head, smiling as the huge black vehicle pulled away from the kerb, his right hand finding and tangling fingers with John's.

Once the four by four was out of sight he turned to John, smiling. "You," he accused, "Are a sneaky bastard."

John laughed. "No more than you have been, in the past!"

"Want to kiss you," Lestrade admitted, but didn't, instead glancing up and down the busy road.

"We can go soon – now, in fact. And then I promise you, there'll be no one to know or care how much we kiss."

Lestrade grinned, embarrassed that he still felt as if he couldn't just do it – kiss his lover in the street, and not care what anyone thought. But he couldn't, not yet, not somewhere he didn't really know, and aware there were probably still plenty of officers around, left over from the conference. He squeezed John's hand instead. A small gesture, but one he wouldn't have made a year ago.

"What are we waiting for, then?"

 

They settled in their own vehicle – a massive and luxurious BMW - and John adjusted the seat and mirrors while Lestrade found the right channel to listen to the rugby on the radio.

As they left the city John slowed and turned into the car park of a large supermarket. Lestrade raised his eyebrows in question. "Something you need?" he asked.

"We need food. Thought we may as well stop now – I'm not sure how many shops there'll be when we get near our destination." John managed to say it all deadpan, no hint of teasing.

Lestrade twisted in his seat. "No…remote holiday cottage? We're heading south again. You've somehow managed to organise a cottage, right?"

John parked, turned the engine off, and looked at him – expression unreadable.

"Maybe." And he was sliding from the driver's seat before Lestrade could respond.

Lestrade scrambled out of his side, virtually running to catch John up. "Oh, come on, a clue! Obviously not a hotel, or we wouldn't need food."

"Might just need food for packed lunches. There's some great walking trails around here."

Lestrade just about stopped himself grabbing John's hand and bouncing along beside him, in exactly the way Sherlock did when he wanted to know what was going on. "So, is it?"

"Is it what?" John grabbed a small trolley.

Lestrade's eyes narrowed. "Can't be just packed lunches, not if you've got a trolley. You're infuriating!"

"And you're as impatient as a certain six year old! Okay, no, you'll find out soon enough anyway, it's not just packed lunch. We need breakfast lunch and dinner up until Monday morning, okay?"

Lestrade nodded and immediately started planning. He knew John had told him that much because out of the two of them, he had a far higher chance of getting a suitable combination of ingredients. John followed him, occasionally picking up things himself, but generally seeming content with Lestrade choosing produce and packets.

Within half an hour they were back on the road, bickering about the rugby and watching the darkening countryside grow more rugged around them, Lestrade still trying to extract more clues from John.

"Should be somewhere quite soon now," John announced, finally, guiding the vehicle through the narrow country lanes.

They hadn't passed a village for some time, and the countryside around them was completely black, the headlights picking out the odd hill rising away into the gloom.

"Where are you taking me, Danger?" Lestrade smiled, sliding his hand onto John's thigh. "Somewhere where nobody will hear me scream?"

John laughed. "Not quite. Just somewhere where no one will wake you up to discuss exploding spleens at five in the morning."

They turned another corner, and there in front of them was a huge building, windows glowing warmly, and outside lights picking out immaculate patios and clipped hedges.

John flicked the indicator on and pulled onto the gravelled drive.

Lestrade slowly dragged his eyes from the building to John. "Seriously? Here?"

John nodded. "Here." The engine faded to silence, and all they could hear was some creature somewhere calling out in the darkness, and the sound of water falling somewhere close by.

Lestrade squeezed John's thigh. "Wow." He let out a little laugh.

"Come on," John was suddenly all action and jumped down, pulling one of the bags out of the boot and waiting for Lestrade to get the other one, before leading the way into the huge building. He managed to get a key out of a small key safe and then followed the small signs to the correct apartment and let them in.

Lestrade dropped his bag inside the door, looking around at the huge lounge diner, with its large windows and comfy furnishings, then pulled John close to him, hearing the dull thump of John's bag hitting the floor and feeling arms sliding inside his jacket. He pressed a kiss to John's temple, squeezing him tightly. "Thank you," he whispered.

John's hands rubbed up and down his back under his jacket. "Thought we deserved it. You deserved it."

"We," Lestrade corrected. "Definitely we. It's amazing."

John pulled away, but hooked his fingers into the top of Lestrade's jeans, dragging him forward. "Think we should check out the rest of the place."

Lestrade eagerly followed. "I think you're full of good ideas, Doc." He shrugged his jacket off and chucked it in the direction of the sofa.

The bedroom also had large windows, and they managed to stop kissing for just long enough to close the curtains before John stuffed his hands up Lestrade's hoodie and Lestrade tried to shove John's coat off his shoulders.

"You," Lestrade managed to wrestle the final button of John's shirt undone. "Are bloody amazing. And gorgeous. And I've…" he paused, kissing John hard, their bare chests pressing together. "Been waiting to get my hands on you for days." He flicked the stud of John's jeans open, sliding his hands inside, grabbing John's bum and holding him close.

"You're not the only one," John rubbed his cheek against Greg's stubble, finding and kissing his lips, sliding a hand up to push his fingers through Lestrade's greying hair, making it stand in soft spikes. His other hand held on to the dip of soft flesh above Lestrade's hip.

They kissed long and slow, Lestrade loving the feel of John's soft skin over strong muscle. The slight softness of his belly and buttocks contrasting with the bones of his hips and the hardness of his cock, now free of all clothing.

It wasn't often they got so much time to themselves, without having to worry about appointments or the end of school – or even whether Mrs Hudson might pop by.

Lestrade purposefully kept his hands away from either of their groins, focussing instead on long, relaxing caresses and kneading the tight muscles on John's shoulders. He could feel John's sense of need growing, as his hands made abortive attempts to get between them, to force their hips together. He gently pushed John backwards, then, once they were almost at the bed, encouraged him to turn around.

"On there, on your front," he ordered, voice rough.

John looked slightly surprised, but didn't say anything, crawling onto the bed, reaching between his legs to adjust himself before lying on his front, leaning on his elbows, twisting to watch Lestrade.

Lestrade spent a few moments just admiring the fit, compact, muscular body in front of him. John hadn't exactly put on weight since they'd first started seeing each other – he'd just seemed to fill out, to grow back into himself perfectly.

"Stop staring," John laughed.

Lestrade grinned and sat on the edge of the bed, twisting and lowering his head to kiss the back of John's calf, then moving to the other, trailing kisses over the back of John's knees, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of his buttocks, shifting and covering John's body with his own as he continued upwards. Spending long moments pressing his lips to the dip of John's spine and breathing in the warmth and scent of his skin.

By the time he reached John's neck he could feel the heat of John's body radiating from under his own. He gently nibbled John's ear, making him squirm. His cock was pressed between them, and he fought with his self-control not to rut against John's flesh.

"I love you," he whispered. Then, before John could answer, slid back down, tucking his knees beneath him, pushing John's legs apart and kneeling. He used his palms to gently spread John's buttocks and buried his face between them, tongue lapping over the tight pucker, feeling and hearing the groan reverberate through John's body.

It wasn't something they did often – time constraints, and the ever present chance of an interruption – meant they tended to leave the more experimental and time consuming acts for opportunities like this.

John's legs spread wider, and Lestrade smiled, as he closed his eyes, concentrating on John filling his every sense.

He licked, sucked, breathed hot, open mouthed gusts over John's wet skin, then dived back down, using his lips, gently dragging his stubble over sensitive flesh and feeling every squirm of John's hips, hearing the gasps and half-formed words. As he pushed his tongue into the heat of John's body John's hips jerked, pushing his erection into the soft bedding, his thighs tensing up.

He carried on, despite John's breathy pleas and quivering muscles, until finally he relented, pressing one last kiss onto John's buttock.

"Roll over," he said, moving back out of the way, and wiping his mouth and chin on the back of his hand.

John moved as if drugged, limbs heavy, a dopey grin on his face. He stretched his arms and shoulders, and one hand dropped to give his cock a quick stroke, adjusting his balls.

Lestrade took a moment to admire the view, then resumed his position between John's legs, dragging his tongue from John's balls up the underside of his heavy erection.

"You don't…you don't have to do this," John just managed to get the words out, along with a soft moan.

Lestrade didn't bother to answer, instead wrapping his hand around John's cock and slowly sliding it up and down, whilst sucking his own fingers, covering them in spit.

John was flat out on the mattress now, one arm flung wide, the other bent up near his head, fingers in his own hair, as if trying to restrain himself.

Lestrade moved his hand, sinking down to take John's entire length into his mouth, looking up John's body to see the sharp intake of breath, the tightening grip, the lower lip caught between teeth.

Then he pushed his middle finger just through the tight sphincter, feeling the slippery slide of saliva, the fluttering clench of the muscle before John relaxed.

"Oh, God, oh…God," John rolled his hips, pushing upwards, opening his legs further and bending his knees up, feet sliding on the fabric of the duvet.

Lestrade pulled up a few inches, tongue working, pressing against the sensitive underside of John's erection, sliding his finger in and out just a little.

John tried to speak, but all that came out were choked sounds, and the hand that had been in his own hair reached down blindly, fingertips hitting the top of Lestrade's head, then pushing through his short hair.

Lestrade took the hint, sinking his mouth down on John once more, breathing deeply through his nose before taking the last inch.

"Les… fuck," John breathed, and Lestrade could feel his thigh muscles quivering as his body was torn between the sensations.

He pulled his finger out of John, stroking the tip around the slightly loosened hole, then pushed back in with two fingers, the ring of muscle tightening on reflex, then relaxing again as John seemed to welcome him in.

Sucking hard, he slid his mouth off John's cock once more, and for a second dipped his head further, spitting on his fingers for more lubrication, before resuming his previous position.

The heat radiating from John's skin was amazing, and Lestrade could taste the slick precome as he licked over the head of John's dick, alternating between taking him deep and focussing on using his tongue to tease and seek out the sensitive spots.

John's balls were tightening, pulling up hard against his body, so Lestrade took a deep breath in, opened his throat and buried his nose in John's pubic hair, swallowing as he felt the blunt tip of John's cock hitting the back of his throat.

Fingers tightened in his hair, the muscles of John's thighs shook as he thrust, and with a choked-off inarticulate cry he finally let go. Lestrade felt the spurts in his throat and John's body clamped around his fingers, crushing his knuckles together.

Then John's legs relaxed, falling open, and his hand relaxed, fingers dragging through Lestrade's hair over and over, petting him as Lestrade gently licked him clean, occasionally flexing his fingers and smiling as an aftershock of pleasure made John shiver.

Finally he slowly pulled his fingers free, glancing down as the muscle closed, flexing. He dipped his head down and dragged his tongue in one long sweep from John's hole to the tip of his cock, one of John's feet hitting him on his own hip as John weakly protested at the stimulation. Then he crawled up the bed, lying beside John, leaning over for a kiss before pulling John close, cuddling him, feeling his heavy, sated limbs trying to organise themselves into an embrace. John rolled onto his side, his right arm landing heavily on Lestrade's waist, pulling them tightly together.

"Didn't have to do that," John slurred, eyes closed, nose dragging over the stubble on Lestrade's jaw.

"You didn't have to do any of this, either," Lestrade pressed a kiss to John's forehead. "Did it because I wanted to. Because I love seeing you like that."

John's hand slid from his waist, down in between them, fingers hitting Lestrade's erection, then wrapping around it.

"You really don't have to do that," Lestrade reached down, closing his own hand around John's, stilling the movement.

John's eyes opened. "Shhhh," he smiled, reaching up and kissing Lestrade on the lips. "Silly man," he murmured.

Lestrade kept his hand over John's, but allowed John to move, stroking him. He began to slightly guide the movements, squeezing John's fingers slightly as they reached the tip of his cock, relaxing on the way down. Speeding up gradually.

He realised that at some point his eyes had drifted closed, and he cracked them open to find John staring at him, a soft smile on his face.

"Nice?" John whispered.

Lestrade nodded, then reached for a kiss, starting with small, dry, brushes of their lips, then flicking his tongue out, licking John's lower lip, letting out a small sigh when John's mouth opened and their tongues met, slipping, dancing, exploring.

His position didn't let him do much in the way of thrusting, but he threw his leg over John's, holding them tight together, then felt John's other hand worming between them, moving up over his chest, and the electric pleasure as a finger flicked over his nipple, nail clicking slightly on the steel barbell. He let out a moan and felt John's mouth tighten in a smile. The finger repeated the action, up and down, and it was all too much for Lestrade. He clenched his buttocks, mind running wild through the things John had done to him – could do to him. Remembering the feel of John sliding into him, the feel of teeth on his shoulder or nipples, the tug of fingers in his hair.

He still couldn't thrust much, but the rhythm of their hands, matched by him squeezing the muscles of his bum, John playing with his sensitive nipple…and then John gently caught his bottom lip between teeth; he felt the pleasure like a shock to his groin, and gripped their hands around his erection even tighter, feeling the splashes of come between their bellies, making their fingers slick and slippery as his cock twitched. He let himself pant out moans of pleasure, now there was no one to hear them, and finally, as the aftershocks of orgasm shivered through his body he wrapped John in a tight hug, not caring about the amount of cooling semen he spread over their skin, just focussing on the warm body in his arms, the strong muscles in his grip, the gusts of hot breath across his neck.

They lay still, in silence, as heartbeats and breathing slowed, and hands went from holding tightly to trailing feather-light touches over now-chilled skin.

Finally John pulled away just enough to look at Lestrade. "Shower?" he said.

Lestrade just made a noise of agreement, not at all sure he wanted to move, but knowing they really should.

It was another five minutes before John gave him a hefty nudge. "Come on, or we'll both fall asleep and then you won't be able to cook me dinner." He grinned.

Lestrade slowly disentangled heavy legs and rolled onto his back, looking at the mess spread across them.

"Can't take you anywhere," he murmured, teasing.

"On the contrary," John grinned. "You seem to take me everywhere."

Lestrade tried to groan at the terrible joke, but ended up laughing as they each grabbed a towel from the pile of fluffy, freshly laundered ones.

 

They showered together, getting in each other's way and spreading suds across wet skin as well as grabbing the occasional kiss. Then dressed just enough to be decent.

John stretched out on the sofa, turning the news on and checking his phone for messages, whilst Lestrade began cooking.

"Darren's left a comment on the blogs," John called out. "Just like Sherlock made him promise to."

Lestrade laughed. "Thankfully he probably has better things to do than keep up to date with them. Unless he gets an interesting case and Sherlock demands details."

"Mmm. He was really good with Sherlock. You can tell he's got kids of his own – patience of a saint."

"He was always like that. 'S why family life suited him so much. Always great with kids, victims – everyone, really. Bit like you." Lestrade said, turning the hob on and pouring oil in the pan to heat.

John walked up behind him, wrapping his arms around him. "Like you, too."

Lestrade turned around, settling his arms around John's waist. "Yeah, now, maybe." He kissed John gently.

 

They ate dinner, then sprawled on the sofa, watching a late night film, more attention on each other than the screen.

John slid his hand up Lestrade's shirt, stopping at the nipple he wasn't half lying on.

"Don't hurt now, then?" he asked, fingertips playing very gently over the smooth metal and firm flesh.

Lestrade shook his head. "Long as you go easy on me."

"Wondering how long until I can lick them," John mused.

"About five seconds, if you want?" Lestrade shifted, grinning.

John flattened his hand and slapped Lestrade lightly on the chest. "Idiot. I meant – well, hard to tell when they're really healed, isn't it? I mean, they look okay now, but the websites said two or three months, at least."

"I'll count down the days, then," Lestrade kissed the top of John's head, where it was resting on his shoulder.

The silence stretched again, the movie reaching a crescendo of explosions and shouting. Lestrade began trailing his fingers over John's back, dipping lower until he could slide them under the hem of his shirt, seeking and finding soft smooth skin beneath. He continued his slow movements, barely touching, until John gave an exaggerated shudder.

"Tickling," he complained, and wriggled to get comfortable again, between the back of the sofa and Lestrade's side.

"For a man who's spent a year claiming not to be ticklish, you're awfully tickleable all of a sudden," Lestrade said.

"Not ticklish, that just tickles. And don't come near my ear!" John pushed himself up and away, wary of attack.

Lestrade spread his legs and rolled John to lie on top of him. "Not ticklish 'don't come near my ear'!" he put on a stupid voice. "Right. Not the most convincing argument I've ever heard, Doc."

"Idiot." John bent down and kissed him, shifting to a more comfortable position.

Lestrade could feel his cock filling out, but completely trapped beneath John's thigh.

"Want to take your idiot to bed?"

John shifted, and Lestrade was sure he could feel the growing hardness.

"Don't know, depends if my idiot promises not to breathe down my ears."

"He promises. And promises to tire you out so much that you won't even wake up until he's made you breakfast in bed tomorrow."

John pulled a thoughtful expression. "That might be an acceptable deal."

Lestrade move quickly, wrapping his arms and legs around John, crossing his feet at the ankles and grabbing his own wrists, so John was completely trapped against him. John grunted in surprise, then relaxed into a long, slow kiss.

"Can't…" John paused for another kiss. "Take you to bed…if you don't let go."

Lestrade sighed, as if put upon, but then released John, groaning as John rolled off him, one hand squeezing the bulge at his groin, under the guise of steadying himself.

They turned off the lights and Lestrade checked the oven before using the bathroom, grabbing kisses as they passed each other, Lestrade's hand massaging John's bum as they brushed their teeth, side by side.

"Insatiable," John grinned as Lestrade cuddled him from behind, dropping a kiss onto his shoulder.

"Only because you're irresistible," Lestrade breathed the last word into John's ear, making him squirm away.

"Bastard! You promised!" John pushed him away, laughing and rubbing his ear. "Now, get on that bed, face down, or…face the consequences."

Lestrade grinned and stretched out on the bed, turning to watch as John pulled his jeans off and dug a wash bag from his suitcase, unzipping it and putting it on the bedside table.

"So, broken promise, what's the punishment going to be?" John climbed onto the bed, on his hands and knees, and Lestrade couldn't help but glance down to the heavy erection dangling between his legs.

"'m entirely innocent," Lestrade mumbled. "Was just whispering to you. No intention to tick…" he was cut off by John's hand slapping him hard on the arse. He couldn't help but smile.

"Internet voted you guilty. Extremely guilty," John massaged the reddening skin.

"So they're the jury. You the judge? Very good looking, for a judge. Although a little underdressed for court." He reached out, stroking his hand over the inside of John's thighs, nudging his cock, watching it twitch at the contact.

"Give out very…stiff…sentences, though," John moved to straddle Lestrade's thighs, his cock resting in the cleft of Lestrade's buttocks, and reached out to grab something from the wash bag.

A moment later cool liquid trickled over Lestrade's back, and John's strong warm hands began massaging him.

"You looked very sexy, giving your talk the other day. In charge. Wearing that suit. Don't tell you often enough how good you look in a suit."

Lestrade just grunted in response, as John's fingers found and worked on a knot in the back of his shoulder.

"Not that you don't look sexy in your bike gear, or your jeans. Look good all the time, in fact."

"So do you," Lestrade said, voice muffled. "Don't mean to take the piss 'bout your jumpers. Love them really. Honestly."

John moved to massaging Lestrade's neck. "Good, because I will buy you one next year."

Lestrade laughed, then stilled as John's hands slid down either side of his spine, fingernails just dragging over his skin, a contrast to the warmth of his palms. He shivered, the movement reminding him of John's hot erection sliding against his bum.

He felt John shifting again, and guessed he was reaching for something else from the wash bag. A few moments later there was the click of a bottle top being flicked open and cool liquid dribbling over the top of his crack. It was swiftly followed by John's fingers, trailing through it, dipping lower, spreading the slick liquid around, then moving back up, gathering more, and finally the pressure he'd been waiting for, the push of a fingertip, barely even entering him, twisting against the sensitive flesh, spreading the lube around.

"Tease," he groaned, trying to push back, but unable to, with John still straddling the tops of his thighs.

"Punishment, remember?" John trickled more of the lube onto him, spreading it around with two fingers this time, and sliding a little further in. Lestrade grabbed the bedding, holding it tight in his fists.

"I'll confess, plead guilty," Lestrade let out a huff of laughter as his every attempt to move was thwarted by John, who now had a hand on the small of his back, too.

"Too late for that," John slid his fingers in further, torturously slowly, before dragging them out again, even more slowly, if possible, and then adding yet more lube, a little at a time, as he worked deeper into Lestrade.

"…mean," Lestrade groaned out.

"Justice," John replied. "But I'm feeling lenient. Kind." He finally pulled his fingers free of Lestrade's tight hole and spread lubricant over himself. "Roll over, on your back. Knees up," he continued, stroking a hand down Lestrade's inner thigh and ducking as Lestrade swung a leg over him.

Lestrade pulled his legs back, after stuffing a pillow behind his head, so he could watch John's every move.

He felt the gentle, slick, touch of John's cock, then the push and he relaxed, breathing deeply, as John pushed into him. It was slow and steady, John pausing every now and again to pull out a little, to move his hips slightly, before pressing back in.

Lestrade let the hold on his legs relax as John finally rested against him, buried deep. He moved his hands to stroke slowly over John's body, from his cheek, down his neck and torso. He felt as John slowly thrust, completely in control, getting comfortable, relaxing into a position that was easy on both of them.

Then John leant down, resting on his elbows, chest pressing against Lestrade's, and they kissed, slowly bodies moving together gently, enjoying the peace and the time they could dedicate to each other.

They rocked together, and Lestrade could feel the occasional sparks of pleasure as John made contact with his prostate, as well as the slow build of excitement from his own cock, trapped between them, gently stimulated by their movements. He could feel John's heartbeat increase, and his breathing quicken, but he knew, as glorious as it was, just being close to one another, and the slow-burn of lazy sex, that he wanted more.

He licked John's ear, digging fingernails into his back, scratching lightly, up and down. "Want you to fuck me harder," he whispered, and felt the twitch as John registered his words.

John pushed himself up, holding his weight on his arms, then slowly, torturously, rotated his hips – pulling almost all the way out of Lestrade, before sliding back in in one long push. "Not sure you're the one in charge here," he grinned. "Punishment, remember?"

Lestrade groaned as a harder shove in punctuated John's words. "Please, you know you wa…" he was cut off, as another thrust seemed to knock the ability to speak out of him.

John didn't let him settle into a rhythm, and every time he thought he knew what was going to happen he was teased – tiny, short strokes, and then long, hard ones that knocked the breath out of him and made him groan with pleasure. Then John pulled all the way out, waited a beat, and pushed back in, repeating the movement, leaving Lestrade feeling empty, desperate to feel John back inside him, then filled perfectly in a smooth stroke. He couldn't help but pant out curses, and when he looked up John was staring down to where his length was disappearing into Lestrade's body, sweat curling the hair around his forehead, mouth open as he breathed hard, arms shaking with the strain.

And finally, finally, John slipped inside, adjusted his knees under him, moved one hand to lean heavily on Lestrade's shoulder, and began fucking him hard, relentless, snapping his hips at the end of every thrust, closing his eyes and giving up to the animal instinct.

Lestrade grabbed at him, pulling his hips even harder, fingers digging into soft flesh, and he squeezed his own muscles in time. And as John panted out that he was close Lestrade finally closed his fist around his cock and pumped in time to John's rhythm, coming within seconds, feeling the his cool release splashing over his stomach and chest, and hearing John's quiet curses, feeling him push impossibly further into him, erratic, desperate. And then the sudden release, the shudder of muscles, the slick wetness inside him as John plunged into him the last few times.

Then they lay, panting, tangled, John heavy on Lestrade's chest, Lestrade holding him tightly, feeling their hearts hammer together. Until John's softening cock slipped free, and Lestrade felt the tickle of escaping liquid. He rolled, planting a sloppy kiss on John's mouth, and got up, heading for the bathroom.

He cleaned up quickly, wetting a warm flannel and taking it back to John, noticing that the pillows and covers had been rearranged, so as soon as John had given himself a cursory clean they wrapped their arms around each other, entangled their legs and turned off the bedside light, warm and comfortable and quickly asleep in each other's arms.

 

The next morning Lestrade was up late, but John was still fast asleep. He wandered into the kitchen, dressed in boxers and a t-shirt, and began cooking breakfast, singing softly along with the radio. He ached in all the right places, and smiled as he worked, his cock filling out a little just at the memories.

The kitchen was huge and spacious and he moved around, searching for cooking equipment and quickly preparing the food. Finally he plucked a rose from the display that had greeted them in the sitting room and dressed the tray with it.

He pushed the door open into the bedroom and set the tray down silently, then sat on the edge of the bed, stroking his fingertips through John's hair and bending over to kiss his cheek.

John opened and eye and mumbled something into the pillow, then rubbed his face with his hand.

"Brought you breakfast," Lestrade grinned, and moved so John could prop himself up and re-arrange the pillows to sit up properly.

"What…is that eggs benedict?"

Lestrade nodded, passing the tray over carefully, having removed the teapot and cups and left them on the bedside table.

"But…you can make hollandaise sauce?" John looked slightly incredulous.

"Where did you think it came from?" Lestrade smiled.

"A jar – the supermarket? I mean…"

"It's dead easy, eat it while it's hot," Lestrade instructed, rescuing his own plate and sitting cross legged on the end of the bed, watching as John enjoyed the food, and pouring him a cup of tea when he'd finished eating, carefully stacking the crockery up.

"That was unbelievable," John said, nodding at the empty dishes. "I thought…thought you just meant toast or something, when you said about breakfast in bed."

"Bit of toast would hardly have been appropriate thanks for all of this," Lestrade gestured around them. "Would it?"

 

By the time they were finally out of bed and showered, dressed and ready to face the world, it was already very late morning. So they bundled up in their warm coats and headed out into the beautiful surroundings. They walked away from the huge mill, following paths and signposts, clambering over styles through the rugged terrain.

After walking for ten minutes and not meeting anyone, Lestrade slid his hand into John's, and a little further on, when the path opened out and became easier to navigate, John slid his hand into the back pocket of Lestrade's jeans, and Lestrade held him close, falling into step and wrapping his arm around John's waist.

"'S nice," John said. "Just…us."

"Nice getting out of the city. Away from everyone. Nice walking with you like this," he gave John a squeeze.

An older coupled came into view, walking toward them, and Lestrade moved to unwrap his arm, but a squeeze of his buttock told him John had other ideas.

"They don't know us, we'll never see them again, and I don't care what they think about two blokes walking with their arms around each other," John said firmly.

"Sorry," Lestrade responded automatically, then held John a little closer, pressing a kiss onto his temple. "I know. Habit."

They both nodded and smiled to the old couple, exchanging greetings. As they walked away Lestrade giggled slightly. "They looked scandalized!"

John moved as if to glance back.

"Don't look back!" Lestrade hissed. "She'll turn you to a pillar of salt or something. Just be happy that you've given her something to gossip about at the next WI meeting."

"That's a terrible stereotype!" John protested.

"Ah, sorry, I forgot, Jam Watson, patron saint of the Women's Institute, Chief Jam Taster Extraordinaire. I do apologise. Gossip of the knitting group then – "

He was stopped by John abruptly shoving him back against the rocky outcrop they'd been walking past and kissing him, hands squirming up under his jacket and hoodie and landing – one warm, one freezing cold – on his belly.

"MmmPF!" he protested, but all it did was give John a chance to slip his tongue into his mouth.

A few minutes later, thoroughly kissed and in no position to walk anywhere for a few moments, Lestrade settled for wrapping his arms around John and staring out over the view – rapidly disappearing into the mist that was creeping all around them.

"Let's stay," he whispered. "No one will ever find us."

John was silent for a moment, just listening to nature.

"Nah, Mrs Holmes has probably got an entire SWAT team just behind that rock. And I'm sure I keep hearing helicopters… Besides, Sherlock and Mycroft would just use the hounds to track our scent. It'd never work."

Lestrade laughed. "All right, all right. I'd miss 'em all, anyway."

"Yeah," John nodded. "Better make the most of tonight, though. And anyway, I've got you a Valentine's present." He broke free of Lestrade's hold. "Last one back to the Mill gets to clean Sherlock's room when we're back!" He ran.

Lestrade groaned, re-arranged himself, and set off in pursuit.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Johnny Cash "If I were a carpenter"
> 
> Betas: NotKerouac and Randomly_Rusted


End file.
